Three Dreaded Words

Thu, 10/20/2016 - 00:44 -- nonah9

I wake up to the touch of my mother's hand

Rough from a lifetime of manual labour

Yet gentle as a breeze,

A breeze I did not invite.

 

I pull the covers over my head,

But my mother urges me, saying

Wake up, you need to go to school

Again, it's always three dreaded words,

Go to school, get a job, wash the dishes.

 

I'm too sick and tired of going to school

I groan and try to go back to sleep

But I feel the rough cracks in my mother’s hands on my back

I sit up sharply and storm off to change into my day clothes.

 

As I stand in front of the bathroom mirror to brush my teeth

I replay yesterday’s events over in my head

Math homework, check, english homework, check,

History, not check, science, still not a check,

 

Job interview, (shudder), total fail

Semi-professional clothing, unsteady speech

Irrelevant answers, bad, no scratch that, terrible eye contact,

Urgh, everything in general.

 

As I stare at myself in the mirror

I vow to make yesterday the last day of failure

And begin an era of “success.”

 

I close my eyes and chant,

Yesterday was the end, today is the beginning

Yesterday was the end, today is the beginning--

I feel the roughness of my mother’s hands on my back, again.

I open my eyes to the three dreaded words.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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